


Of The Vala Who Couldn’t Hold Booze

by harnatano (orphan_account)



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, I have no regret, drunk manwë, stupid ainur, valarian nerds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2015-02-20
Packaged: 2018-03-13 22:33:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3398660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/harnatano
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The day Melkor brought rum to the Taniquetil.</p>
<p>(Please, forgive my mistakes in English)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of The Vala Who Couldn’t Hold Booze

"MANWË SULIMO, ENOUGH NOW!" Varda’s voice echoed above the Taniquetil like a slamming storm.  
"Wh-what?" Surprised by this spouse’s sudden wrath, the Vala stared at her awkwardly, his blue eyes wide open in sheer confusion.  
"Oh please Varda, relax." he laughed, taking another sip of wine and climbling clumsily on the large table.  
"Manwë, if you do not stop this immediately I will-"  
"You what darling?" He asked innocently, spinning around. Yet, as his glass slipped from his hand to explode on the floor, a glint of pure sadness flotted in his eyes.  
Taking his head between his hands, Oromë let out a desperate sigh, while Eonwë followed his lord on the table, ready to catch him in case he would stumble. After five bottles of red wine and a few more glasses of an unknown liquor, the risk of a fall was more than possible.  
"Manwë please, get down."  
'Varda dearest, could you just shut up? I have something important to do… Vana, play that song please… you know, the one which reminds me of the birds' cries.”  
"My lord… I do not think-"  
"Play iiiiit." The king commanded, a joyful smile dancing over his lips and his legs shaking in anticipation.  
Reluctantly, the Valie obeyed, glancing confusingly at her husband as her fingers started to move on the strings of her harp. Closing his eyes, Manwë waved his hips slowly and carried away by the rhythm, his feet began to move with a surprising fluidness.  
"Well… This is ambarassing." Whispered Namo who couldn’t get his eyes off of the Elderking. Irmo at his side was shaking his head in rhythm, but his brother immedialty sank his elbow into his ribcage, trying to avoid another shameful moment.  
"Manwë please!"  
"I am not listening Varda ! Vana, louder! I want to-" Before he could finish his sentence, the Vala stumbled with an uncommon grace and fell in the herald’s arms, white feathers flotting around them. A loud, drunken laugh cascaded from Manwë’s lips as he clumsily managed to stood up, held by Eonwë who was doing his best to carry him.  
In a corner of the room, Melkor was watching and the snigger which escaped him when his brother crawled on the floor caught Varda’s attention.  
"You! It is your fault, is it not?"  
"My fault?’ The dark Vala replied, with the most innocent voice he could manage. "I am not his babysitter, I am his brother. Manwë is a big boy you know…"  
"And you are a filthy liar! You made him drink, you poisoned him!"  
"I simply and politely offered a drink to my brother and before I could stop him he was finishing the bottle."  
"Brooooootheeeer!" All of a sudden, Manwë threw himself on Melkor, wrapping his long arms around his neck. "Big bro, I love you!"  
A grimace crossed Melkor’s face as his brother nuzzled into his neck. “Yeah…Same.”  
"Can I have more.. What is it again?"  
"Rum Manwë. It is called rum."  
"YES! That’s it ! Can I have more rom… raom… rum…rum!”  
Under Varda’s stern gaze, Melkor winced and as gently as possible, pulled away from his brother’s tight embrace.  
"There is no rum anymore. But Irmo is hiding a bottle of wine under his robes. You should try to find it." Melkor stated softly, spitting a feather which had slid between his lips.  
At his brother’s last statement, Manwë rushed to the Fëananturi and started to palpate Irmo’s legs despite Namo’s strong protest.  
"I warn you Melkor," Varda began, a terrifying threat in her voice. "If he get sick, you will take care of him!"  
"Varda, Varda… he will need more than a few drinks to get sick, he is my brother after all!"  
As Melkor spoke, an awkward moan resounded and all the Ainur turned to look at their king. Laying on the floor, his eyes wide open on the roof, Manwë was slowly rocking his hips, yet his face was showing nothing but trouble.  
"Manwë, what is it?’ Varda asked, worried by her husband behavior. "Manwë… ?"  
"I heard Father…" A childish look upon his face, the Vala giggled loudly. "He said that I should go to bed. Immediately."  
"Then you should follow his counsel darling."  
Behind them, Melkor was laughing maniacally, and he was soon followed by Manwë who rolled on the floor to lay on his stomach. “I am not tireeeeed!”  
Suddenly, his face turned into a uncommon shade of green and at this sight, Melkor froze. ‘Manwë don’t-‘  
"Too late." Namo whispered as Varda stepped away from her husband.  
"Melkor… He is all yours."


End file.
